


Corylus Avellana

by wetkitty420



Category: Endeavour (TV), Faerie Folklore, Led Zeppelin
Genre: Hazelnuts, Multi, that thing where you try to take a nap but end up sleeping for 40 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetkitty420/pseuds/wetkitty420
Summary: An old soul meets a new soul
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Corylus Avellana

*1909*

“Veridiana, I need to get some sleep. We can sort it all out in the morning.”

Morse rubbed the back of his head and his hand came away with a paper star in it, which he crumbled and tossed to the floor.

“Nonsense!”

The voice came from a glowing green figure bent over in front of a knothole in the wall. She was rummaging through his small collection of drinking vessels and cutlery. There was a series of crashes that made Morse wince repeatedly, and she continued. 

“You saved me, I’ll never sleep until you let me repay you.” 

She straightened, and when she turned around her wings left trails of light leading back to where they had been, like sparklers. As she walked over to him, her bright outline lingered in the air over and over again so that his small living space seemed filled with translucent green nymphs.

The gauzy fabric of her dress was the exact same color as her skin, so it was impossible to discern how much could actually be seen through it. He felt dazzled, even after spending all evening trapped in that hourglass with her. 

He was already sitting in his nest (a very fine nest) and he thought ‘Sure, well, maybe, if she’s really going to do all of the work’ 

She set down one of the hazelnut mugs she had found on the low table in front of his nest. 

Most of her dark hair was still held tight in a nautilus bun. She reached up to a clear jewel at the front of the bun and pulled, revealing a delicate silver fork. Her hair fell around her face and down her back in soft swirls. 

She opened her mouth wide and reached in with emerald-clawed green bean fingers, pulling out a perfectly dry, crisp looking sugar cube. She laid the fork across the mug and balanced the sugar on top of it. Then she put one bare foot up on the table beside the mug, and hitched up her dress.

Morse rolled his eyes and looked away, blushing until the trickling sound stopped. 

The liquid appeared a deep teal against the wood of the mug. Tiny bubbles rose about an inch above the surface before popping, each one a tiny point of light. How must that feel inside her? Thought Morse. He couldn’t hold her distractedness against her now.

He brought the mug to his lips, bubbles tickling his nose with the smell of aniseed and coriander, and sipped. His brow furrowed. It tasted like

*1969*

Morse’s eyes snapped open. 

He sat up and stretched. The ache in his back was mostly gone, he had needed that sleep. 

He reached for the mug of water he kept on the table beside his nest, but found it dry. Beside it was a mint green sheet of paper.

Come .:*:. and .:*:. find .:*:. me... sleepyhead. ~~Verdi

Well. He could deal with that later.

His home was exactly as he had left it. It was well enchanted. A tiny space for one old bachelor, it had a space for his nest, a kitchen, and a table where he could eat or read. When he was younger he had carved out an area for a living room, but it was now mainly storage for his many fae books and scraps of human writing, music and poetry. Photographs pertaining to mysteries both human and fae.

He went about his usual morning ablutions. Rotated a snail shell attached to the wall and water trickled out. Splashed his face, cupped his hands and drank.

With a snap of his fingers, he lit the beeswax under his stove and placed a human thimble full of water on it. He could not afford elven metalwork. Opened a drawstring sack and pulled out a coffee bean. He’d have to pound it with a stone. Thankfully there was some already ground hazelnut flour left. 

Full of hot coffee and warm hazelnut mush, he felt ready to face the world. Or at least the forest. But when he got to the door it was thickly covered with lichen, spiderwebs, and snail slime. 

Morse hacked through it with his empty breakfast bowl until he was floating in the air beside his tree, his wings fluttering belatedly, for he had long since learned to fly through intent alone.

His wings were clear as glass and webbed with pencil-thin lines of black.   
The mint green lichen reminded him of Veridiana. It was starting to grow deep into the bark of his tree, soaking up the rain and leaving the wood damp and bloated. He knew he didn’t have another 40s years to sleep away.

He put his hand against the tree and closed his eyes, ready to feel the familiar slow drone of an old tree’s heartbeat. 

But that’s not all he felt. There was something else with it, a tiny murmur like a chime. And a feeling like a drop of golden light had fallen on his left foot. 

There was nothing on his foot when he looked down. Looking past it he saw, feet away on the ground, on a large, bowed root a tiny dot of yellow with a glowing aura around it. An ensouled plant. A new fae life.

He floated down.

(so it’s Robert Plant, standing there naked and wet.) 

The new one had already found his balance, he seemed to be the type of fairy in possession of animal grace. He was perfectly muscled with a little satisfying weight on his belly and thighs. His legs and forearms bore golden fuzz, but the hair on his chest, and on his belly leading down to his sex, was dark.

His wings were trembling, still wet and tender and folded in on themselves in a few places. Deep orange and plush like velvet, monarch wings.

His hair was wet and Morse could almost see the curls contracting and fluffing up as it dried. 

His penis stirred and water trickled down his right thigh before he shifted his center of gravity. Pissing like those human made statues, back when fairies were much bigger, and humans knew how to use their eyes and hands. 

Morse found he couldn’t remember a single word. But that’s alright, words were not necessary for a first life. He reached out to the stranger.

*****************************************************************************

Morse lifted the mug to his lips and drank, keeping eye contact as the stranger watched. Then he dipped two fingers in the water and brought them to the other’s mouth, patting his lips wet.

The stranger licked his lips, blinking at the new sensation. Morse steadily lifted the vessel to his mouth and tipped it slowly. The stranger lapped, sputtered, dripped water down his furry chest and belly, and then began to swallow. 

New fairies were blank slates. New humans were more like lumps of clay, and by the time life pounded and fired them into slates, it was time for them to leave this earth. 

Being an old fairy, Morse wasn’t one to fill his nook with all kinds of trinkets. That’s something this stranger might do, in his next life or two, when he inhabited something less transient than a violet. 

Morse could picture the lad as quite a magpie. He sat now with a piece of crocheted lace draped over his shoulders like a shawl and several colorful ribbons tied in his hair. He had been nimble with the knots right away.

{ a gold bracelet with peridots, which he was wearing like a sash. He had held each stone up to his eyes and looked through them with wonder. Morse thought he would let him keep it, it was August after all.} not sure where this part was supposed to go?

Morse cast about for anything else good for a soul on his first day. He had all kinds of human writing, beautiful poetry and beguiling fragments of stories. But of course he could not read aloud.

Suddenly he remembered. The velvet pillbox he liked to rest his feet on, it opened like a trunk. 

He pried it open and inside was an intimidating looking machine. A steel cylinder almost as big around as Morse’s waist was balanced between two posts, one connected to a metal crank. The cylinder was studded with spikes, arranged as if in a meaningful pattern. The posts were fastened with crude human screws to a thick board, and beside them was fastened what looked like a metal comb, set so that it’s teeth lined up with the cylinder, nearly touching it.

The stranger looked up when he heard Morse struggling to lift the machine, and marveled when he finally got it to the table. Morse began turning the crank with both hands, at first producing a cloying squeak and then-

Sweet notes. One after another as the cylinder rotated, it’s studs hitting against specific teeth on the comb. Suddenly this torturous device (which Morse had first taken to be some kind of food mill) was singing more sweetly than any bird he could remember for centuries passed.

They had listened to the machine song for close to an hour, taking turns with the heavy crank. First the new one sang, smooth tones that seemed to fit right in between the teeth of the comb. Then Morse joined, wordlessly. His voice was a bit thin, but true and pure as it had been. ?

***************************************************************

Now the sun was set, the sky the color of a bruise and a few of the boldest stars showed themselves.

Morse took the stranger out on a branch and had him look up at the sky, which took care of another big pee before bed.

He carefully untied the ribbons from the other’s hair and removed his shawl. He led his friend over to his nest. 

The base of his nest was the pelt of a perfect white mink. Morse would not let the human hunter have her, he had watched her spirit go and then dressed the fur himself. He had been young then, it was hard to imagine feeling that strongly about any animal or object now.

Over the fur was a silk handkerchief with an embroidered mountain motif. Clouds rose from the mountains with little fish swimming among them. It had been given to Morse by a changeling girl.

Morse turned back the cloth and guided the stranger to sit down. He turned away to fill a vessel with water for the night, and when he came back he nearly dropped the cup.

The lad sat, his bottom nestled in snow white fur, with his legs parted. His hands were at his sides pawing into the soft fur and his penis, thick and heavy between his thighs, was filling out. 

It gave a tiny ‘kick’ with each heartbeat until it was fully erect, the foreskin retracting to reveal flesh that had never touched air or light. 

The lad looked at him with an expression of pained dismay, and Morse quickly softened his face, realizing that he himself must have looked shocked. He put the cup down and patted his friend nonthreatening on the arm, before coaxing him to lay on his back.

Laid out like that, his erection looked exposed and vulnerable. The tender head just barely brushed against the hair on his belly. He clenched his abdominal muscles making his penis bounce and tap against his belly.

In that way, he shamelessly chased his bliss.

His moans started to sound needy, almost distressed, and Morse thought for a moment of helping him. But he knew that the new body knew what to do, that this process must be trusted.

His release reached up to his collarbone, then the top of his ribs, then spilled several times all over his belly. 

Morse turned away to find a scrap of cloth. But when he came back, the lad was licking his fingers and every trace of his success was gone. 

Morse could only laugh.

“Good” 

His own voice surprised him. “Good, good.” he said, fussing a little bit with the new soul’s hair. It would be horribly tangled by morning, but they could sort that out then. 

“Good” repeated the young one. It came out with more of a ‘k’ sound, more of a breath, but perfectly good for a first word.

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all learned something here today.
> 
> ..................................
> 
> Ok so, I actually wrote this almost two years ago, while seriously ill and stuck in bed. The first part was written while self medicating with marijuana, the second part was written while taking an immuno suppressant drug normally used for organ transplants. (I have quite a severe autoimmune disease) Go figure- a side effect of this drug was a yen for cock that I had never felt before in my life.
> 
> I had fun writing this and finding it again. Hope some of yous had fun reading <3


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